


If You Got It, Might as Well Flaunt It

by MapacheLuna



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bat Family, JayTimBINGO2019, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-14 12:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20600609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapacheLuna/pseuds/MapacheLuna
Summary: Tim has never really given his presentation any real thought, even less so in terms of going through with a big Presentation Event; he's just a little too...unmotivated when it comes to flaunting himself like that, especially in front of people he doesn't even really care to know.But when Jason starts making comments about it? Well, then it's time to make sure a certain someone eats their words, isn't it?





	1. Throw a Gauntlet, and Get Smacked With It

**Author's Note:**

> I MAY BE LATE, BUT BETTER LATE THAN NEVER, RIGHT??
> 
> If there's anyone here from the last ship week I did -way back when,- then you know I play it hard and loose with the prompts, so don't be surprised if they don't appear in the way you might expect. That being said, the prompts I chose were:
> 
> Reluctant Alpha/Omega; Surprise! I'm an Omega!; Alpha Challenge; Gift
> 
> (...In no particular order as well, I should add.)

“Tim.”

Tim stared. The coffee stared back. Was his coffee actually starting to talk back to him now? Was that a thing he should have been worrying about all these years?

“Tim.”

There it was again. He offered a garbled response, faintly reminiscent of that one recording he heard of the 52-Hertz Whale back in middle school, the world’s loneliest whale, doomed to never find a mate because of its unique vocalization.

_ “Tim.” _

Tim glanced mournfully down at his cup. If it’d gained sentience, then surely he couldn’t drink it; it’d go against their ‘no kill’ code, wouldn’t it? He sighed, alarmingly watery; world’s loneliest whale, indeed.

“Oh, for heaven’s- Drake! Father is attempting to talk to you!” Something soft suddenly bounced off the side of his head. “Cease your simpering and pay attention!”

Tim blinked, eyes tearing themselves away from his mug to watch the bread roll settling near his elbow, before finally looking up, only to find a hard green glare staring him down, irritation wafting off of him in waves. “Huh?”

Damian grit his teeth, the grinding audible across the wide table. “Father. Is. Speaking. To. You.” The fork in his grip was starting to make an interesting noise, and Tim found himself distantly wondering if it would actually snap this time; Dick was usually around to stop Damian before he destroyed the silverware. “You. Imbecile.”

“Damian,” the deep sigh was slightly overshadowed by the much cheerier, _ “I’ll be taking that, Little D,” _ as Dick descended from only god knew where, snatching the distressed fork out of Damian’s grip, only a little worse for wear, before it found its way into the bowl he had been balancing in his other hand. “We’ve talked about throwing things-”

“I could have thrown the fork, Father!” Damian interrupted, way too loudly, if you asked Tim, “And he was being disrespectful toward you!”

Dick snorted, halfway to shoveling whatever the cereal of the week was into his mouth with Damian’s confiscated fork. “Tim’s not even awake, Little D; he couldn’t even _ spell _‘disrespectful’ if you asked him.”

Tim mumbled something that he hoped sounded agreeable enough as he finally tipped his cup up to his mouth; it was way too damn early for surprise spelling bees.

A snort interrupted whatever Damian’s response would have been, Jason ambling into the room shortly afterwards, chest bare enough for Tim’s lizard brain to perk up. “It’s never too early for some disrespect, Dickiebird.”

Damian sneered. “Why am I not surprised that you’d think so, Todd?”

“Because I’m a lovable cad?” And this might have been Tim’s hypersensitive caffeine-deprived Thirst™ speaking, but he could have sworn that Jason had winked at him briefly before directing the brunt of his leer at Damian’s reddening face. 

“Okay~” Dick sing-songed, conveniently off-key, cutting off whatever creative insult Damian was sure to have been about to toss at Jason. “Bruce, you were asking Tim something?”

“I was,” Bruce looked about ten times more tired than he had when Tim had almost face planted into the table fifteen minutes ago. “But I’m willing to wait until he’s a little more, awake, to ask.”

“Ar uh ehehet,” Tim held one finger up as he tipped the rest of his coffee down his throat, other hand already reaching for the carafe that Alfred, bless him, always made sure was within easy reach in the mornings. 

He only looked up once he had downed half of his refill, awareness finally starting to prickle into his senses, enough to realize that Bruce had a slim binder next to his plate instead of his customary morning news tablet, and that Jason’s sweatpants were low enough on his hips that he could practically see where his happy trail began thickening out as it descended into his crotch. 

Tim wanted to lick him. But like, only a little bit. And only because his abs looked especially delicious this morning. Really. 

“Okay,” he interrupted _ that _ particular train of thought before it could truly get him in trouble -thank Bruce for Bat-strength scent patches,- “What’s up, Bruce?” 

Bruce greeted his sheepish smile with a small lip twitch of his own before clearing his throat, hand resting lightly on the binder. “I wanted to ask you if you’d given any thought to a Presentation Event lately.”

What.

Dick immediately inhaled his latest forkful of cereal, spewing milk that just barely missing Jason, who for his part completely missed the chair he had been about to drop into, dropping out of sight instead with a loud _ ‘SHIT.’ _

Damian just continued eating his spinach omelette, only pausing to take a sip of tea and shift out of the way of a dribble of Dick’s half-masticated cereal mulch, barely sparing a nose crinkle to the chaos around him. 

Tim meanwhile just blinked at Bruce, and when Bruce just stared steadily back, looked back down his coffee, betrayed. Had Alfred switched them to decaf without them realizing? It was entirely possible; the older man had always had strong opinions about their ‘savage bean water,’ if Dick was to be believed-

“Tim,” Bruce’s had to raise his voice to be heard over Dick’s pained, choked yelps as Jason dragged himself off the ground to pound on his back, “A Presentation Event?”

Oh god, he hadn’t been hallucinating then. Alright then, this was a conversation they were having now.

“Uh, no,” Tim blinked again, more than a little confused. “After my parents…” he swallowed, fighting down the usual wave of bittersweet sadness that always came when he thought of Janet and Jack Drake, “I just figured it wasn’t something that was going to happen for me.” He shrugged. “Even when they had been alive, they hadn’t seemed very interested in it.”

Bruce was frowning before he’d even finished talking, the lines on his face deepening into something sharply pensive. “It’s tradition.”

And the thing was, it definitely was, even more so for the type of old money that the Waynes and the Drakes came from. 

Presentation events had come into style sometimes around the time that humanity had decided they were above clubbing potential mates over the head and dragging them off, and had picked up even more when people had begun to realize that the easiest way to marry off their children, no matter their presentations, was to show them off to as many viable mates as possible in one shot, and then pick the best of the turnout. 

Nowadays, it had evolved into a sort of peacocking affair, especially among the members of high society. Presentation Events were an opportunity for the rich and powerful to flaunt their children, their wealth, and their statuses to each other, and to collect the type of social leverage that could only come from being recognized as the parent of a particularly desirable potential mate, both attractive and resourceful. 

For the children in question though, it was an opportunity to flaunt their sexual maturity, a social green flag if you will, declaring, _ ‘Hey, I’m legal now!’ _ to anyone who might be interested. For the crowds not shackled to stagnant propriety, it usually became a sort of free for all party, sometimes at a rented hall or out on the party scene. Steph’s had been a small affair at a techno club two year ago, shortly after they had dated. Tim had ended up with more than a few numbers shoved down his pants, and a glowing handprint on the ass of his best black jeans. 

His general attitude toward Presentation Events could probably be compared to his feelings as he’d peeled those pants off just to toss them straight into the garbage; a good idea at the time, but ultimately unsatisfying and leaving him wishing for a chocolate bar or two to fill the void of empty promises unfulfilled.

Somehow, Tim didn’t think Bruce was thinking about it in the same way he was.

"I mean, yeah," he started slowly, wheels starting to turn as he watched Bruce's fingers twitch on the binder, "but I always got the feeling that my parents were just going to take out an ad in the paper to let everyone know I was an omega, and be done with it." He shrugged again. "Less work for them." _ And they wouldn't have to be here for it, _ he clearly didn't say, but by the twitch of Bruce's eyebrows, he could tell it was heard loud and clear. 

The choking noises suddenly doubled over at Dick and Jason's side of the table. 

"Hold on," Jason wheezed, smacking himself on the chest with one hand, the other one not pausing where it was still valiantly trying to give Dick a thoracentesis through force alone. “Since when is Timmers an _ omega _?”

“Uh, since I presented when I was thirteen?” Tim frowned. Did Jason really not know? Tim knew that all of them wore scent patches with an almost religious fanaticism, but surely they had been around each other without them on before-?

Well, if Jason’s completely gobsmacked look was anything to go on, apparently they really hadn’t.

Huh.

“Honestly, Todd,” Damian finally deigned to look up at them, expression even more unimpressed than usual. “I had thought you were meant to be an alpha,” he rolled his eyes. “Isn’t your nose supposed to be the superior one here?” He smirked. “Even _ I _ could tell that Drake was an omega, and I don't have your enhanced senses.”

“Shut it, Shortstack,” Jason sneered. “If I went and stuck my nose in his neck I'd probably be able to tell, but us civilized people ask for permission before doing something like that. Not sure how they do it in the sand dune you sprung out of."

Tim spared a moment longer than he should have on the image of Jason brushing his nose up the length of his neck, before he had to disguise his resulting squirm as a graceful shift in his seat. Completely casual and smooth, if he said so himself, even with the disgusted glance Damian shot his way. 

“You are hardly the person to be talking to me about civility, Todd; you’re sitting at this table _ without a shirt on_.”

“What’s your point?”

“Wait,” Dick wheezed, arms windmilling to get Jason away from him, face still slightly purple. “B, you serious?”

Bruce’s frown deepened. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dick squinted at him, still managing to look incredulous even with water streaming from his eyes. “Well, this just seems kinda sudden.” He coughed into his sleeve, sneaking a peek over at Tim. “Can’t say I was expecting this from _ you _.”

Tim watched Bruce’s fingers curl over the side of the binder before relaxing again. “It’s important.” His gaze passed over Dick, moving onto Jason, and then finally settling onto Tim. “You’re still within the age range for it, and I wanted to offer you the opportunity, if you should want it.”

“Cutting it kinda close though,” Jason leaned back in his chair, balancing on the last two legs while he ate an apple. Tim pointedly _ did not _ stare at his mouth. “Timmy’s getting up there.” He smirked at Tim’s sour look. “Isn’t this shit usually around thirteen or something?”

“While Drake _ is _ quite old for it-,” Damian continued to speak over Tim’s indignant _ ‘Hey!’ _ “-Presentation Events are actually usually around fifteen, are they not?” He waited for Bruce’s nod before continuing, “Is that when I will have my own?”

Tim watched Bruce’s shoulders lose some of their tension, the corners of his mouth curling a little easier, and let a theory start unfurling in his mind.

“If you’d like, Damian,” Bruce gave his youngest a tiny smile. “You can wait to have one, if you’d prefer it, or you could have one earlier.” He spared the barest of a glance to the binder under his fingers. “My family has traditionally done them at sixteen for alphas and betas, and seventeen for omegas.”

Dick whistled. “Cutting it _ real _ close there, B,” he punctuated his statement with another big bite of his abandoned cereal, to everyone’s great disgust. “What?”

Jason just snorted, casting an assessing look back at Tim, which he staunchly pretended he wasn’t feeling like a physical touch in that moment, goosebumps and treacherous legs be damned.

“Then I will have mine when I turn sixteen,” Damian declared loudly, little nose in the air. “Since I will be an alpha, that should be adequate in keeping with our family’s traditions.”

“Uh,” Dick ticked an eyebrow up at him, tilting his head with a hesitant smile. “It doesn’t work like that, Little D. You’re a little on the young side to be able to guess your orientation yet.”

“I _ know _I will be an alpha, there is no guessing about it.”

Jason snorted again, letting his chair fall back on all four legs with a loud _ thud _ . “Okay, _ that _I gotta call bullshit on.” He leaned an elbow on the back of Damian’s seat, pausing in mid-movement to smirk down at him. “This is me, by the way, being civilized and telling you I’m about to stick my nose in your neck.” 

“Todd, don’t you dare-”

Predictably, Jason avoided Damian’s attempt on his life with an ease that bespoke of many a dodged fork and spoon in his past before he managed to wrangle him close enough to stick his face into the crook of his neck, making obnoxious loud snuffling noises that Tim was about eighty percent sure were just for show, but startled a laugh out of him nonetheless; he spared the warmth spreading through his stomach the barest attention, acknowledging the whispers of _ pack _ thrumming through his hindbrain for a second before turning back to the scene unfolding in front of him, where Damian was prying Jason off of him with a palm in the middle of his face, and a spork in the other one.

“Unhand me, you brute-!”

“Knew it,” Jason laughed, swiping at Damian’s hand, mirth sparkling in his eyes. “You just smell like pup, brat, even under the scent patch. There’s not even a hint of anything else in there.”

“_ I know that_,” Damian hissed, still brandishing the spork like one of his throwing knives, admittedly looking just as deadly even with his hair disheveled and shirt askew. “I am aware that eleven years of age is too young to be able to tell.”

“Then why do you think you’re going to be an alpha?” Dick inclined his head toward Bruce, who had been watching everything unfold with a look that declared that it was just another Tuesday to him. “You know that just cause your dad is one doesn’t mean you will be, right? I mean, it usually _ does _ have a little something to do with it, but not always,” He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Although, my parents were both betas, and so am I, sooo-” Tim cut in before Dick could derail his own defense.

“My mother was an alpha, and my father was a beta, but I’m an omega,” he shrugged. “Sometimes it’s honestly just chance.” He glanced over at Jason, eyebrow raising when he just got another appraising look instead of anything helpful. “Anything to add, Jay?” He prompted when the silence stretched for a beat too long, heat gathering under his collar underneath that sharp gaze.

Jason stared for another beat before suddenly shaking his head, turning to glance at Damian instead. “My deadbeat dad was an alpha, but I never really got a read on my birth mother before everything kinda went to shit,” he ignored everyone’s flinch with an air of practiced acceptance, “Wouldn’t be able to tell you if I took after him or her, but Timbo and Dickie are right; this shit is up to chance.”

Damian just rolled his eyes, huffing under his breath before leveling a hard glare at all of them. “I am _ informing _ you all that I _ will be _ an alpha because it was _ determined _ I would be before I was born.” He shot a glance at Bruce under his lashes, clearly aware of how deadly still he had just gotten, but continued, undeterred. “I read my file.”

“What.” That was Dick, but the dry heat he packed into the word perfectly reflected the static echoing in Tim’s own head.

Damian shrugged, absently dragging his fork through the spare bits of spinach left on his plate. “Mother is an alpha, same as Father; I was conceived with a great degree of genetic intervention.” He rolled a shoulder, nonchalance drifting off of him in waves. “I was to be male, I would have green eyes, and I would be an alpha.” He propped his chin on his palm, gaze clearly reading boredom with what he considered an old topic. “And as you can see, I am male, I have Mother’s eyes, and thus, I will be an alpha.” 

The silence that flooded the room in the wake of _ that _ revelation was suffocating underneath the barely restrained weight of _ rage-horror-despair _ that Tim could tell the scent patches were struggling to contain. Christ, what a mood killer, _ and _ convenient reminder that Tim personally kind of really wanted Talia’s head on a pike right alongside Ra’s now. Just, as a casual note to self, going forward.

“Okay,” Jason slapped a hand down in front of himself, cutlery rattling ominously as far as Tim’s side of the table. “Before I have to go and kill somebody over _ that _ straight up bullshit, Timmers,” he shot another one of those assessing stares at him across the way, pinning him to the spot. “You going to go through with this or nah?”

Tim quirked an eyebrow at that. “Is there a reason that you think I wouldn’t?”

Jason just shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of thing, is all, Babybird.” He finished with a roguish smirk, teeth straight and sharp. “You don’t exactly scream the ‘pampered society omega type.’”

Tim quickly pushed down the flush of warmth trying to crawl up his chest at the combination of that nickname and that smile with a vengeance. “I don’t see what going through with a Presentation Event has to do with being a ‘pampered society omega type,’” Tim made sure to physically use the air quotes he could hear in Jason’s own tone. “Everyone deserves to be the center of attention every once in a while.” Nevermind that he had started this conversation convinced that he and Presentation Events mixed about as well as oil and water; the circumstances had changed between coffees number one and three, after all.

Jason scoffed. “Not you, though.” He flicked his eyes up and down Tim’s person, gaze much more amused this time. “You’ve been wearing the same thing for the past three days.”

“It’s the morning, I sleep in this!”

“I _ saw _ you go out with Steph wearing that yesterday.”

“We went to the store to get food, that hardly counts!” Wow, _ rude _, forget how hot Jason looked reading him to filth, his honor was on the line here, damn it. “And why are you keeping track of my laundry habits anyway?”

“Babybird,” Jason intoned, voice dry as toast, “It’s not hard when you walk around looking like you _ just _ rolled out of bed; I can probably honest to god close my eyes and _ guess _ at what shirt you decided to pull on backwards, and be right more than half the time.” He paused to take a sip of tea that Tim fervently hoped was as cold as the ninth circle of hell, “Today’s shirt is probably a Han Solo one, going by the color.”

Tim very pointedly did not look down -damn it, he could _ feel _ the tag sticking out underneath his chin now that he was aware of it- and instead looked up at the three other pairs of eyes that had been flicking back and forth between him and Jason the entire time. He narrowed his eyes at them, reading the amusement at his expense in their tightly controlled expressions.

Well, fuck them too, then.

“Bruce,” he declared loudly, pushing his seat back with an unnecessary but entirely satisfactory flourish, “I accept your offer, and _ I cannot wait _ to start planning this with you.” He logged the joy that definitely flickered over Bruce’s expression away for later contemplation. “But first, I’m going to go get ready; I think I have some errands to run today after all.” 

He stabbed a finger at Damian, taking a muted perverse joy in watching him go slightly cross-eyed in his attempt to focus on him. “You, be ready to leave in fifteen minutes; you’re coming with me.

“And you two,” he pointed between Dick and Jason, delighting in the slow trepidation he could see finally dawning across their faces, “You’re officially personae non gratae; you have nothing to do with any of this.”

“Hey-!”

“Now wait just a minute, Babybird-”

“Nope!” Tim cut them both off with a decisive swipe of his hand, rounding the table. “I get to make these calls, so stay out of the way.” He barely paused as he walked by Jason, taking in his round eyes and slack jaw in the seconds before he slapped his freshly peeled scent patch down between his eyebrows.

“What the fu-!”

“There,” Tim strutted away, making sure to put a bit of sway into his walk. “I don't think I'll be needing those for a while.”


	2. Dens of Iniquity and Coffee Brownies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim goes shopping, and Jason goes baking, and everyone gives them a hard time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, I cannot even begin to express how surprised and humbled I was at the attention the first chapter got; I could have NEVER anticipated that, or how welcoming you've all been. For my first foray into writing for this fandom, I can definitely say that you guys are making this a great experience for me.
> 
> So without further delay, thank you all so much, and here's chapter two!

“I have come to the conclusion,” Damian started, face grim, “that I no longer have any desire to be an alpha.”

“Too bad,” Tim didn’t miss a beat, slurping the last of his iced coffee through his eye-searingly neon straw as he stared Damian down. “Now, which color would better compliment my skin tone,” he pointed with the straw, “Dark blue, or slightly lighter but still technically dark blue?”

“If I manage to gouge my own eyes out, then it won’t matter to me,” Damian muttered darkly.

“And that’s why I’m here!” A long, pale arm suddenly draped over Damian’s shoulders, hand clamping down on in a grip that Tim could tell was just past friendly, even through his sunglasses. “I hope you guys didn’t start the fun part without me?” 

“Hey Steph,” he grinned. “Is Cass going to be able to make it?”

Steph shook her head, blonde hair slicing through the air only to land on top of Damian’s fuming little head. “Nah, she said that she’d drop by the mansion later though, to check out our bounty.” She took an appreciative glance around the store as she spoke, eyebrows slowly rising before looking back at Tim, approval shining in her eyes. “And what a bounty it will be, Ex-boyfriend. Who pissed in your coffee today?”

“Jason,” Tim offered dryly, rolling his eyes when Steph just snorted. 

“And water is wet, what else is new?”

That was apparently when Damian hit the limit to his daily self-restraint.

“If Brown was to be here, why am _ I _ here too?” His scowl sent the sales associate that had been wandering near them scurrying away before she even got within scenting distance. “I have better things to do with my time than transverse through this, this, this _ den of iniquity _ with the likes of you!”

Tim fought to keep his expression straight, even as Steph quietly lost it over Damian's head, mouthing '_ den of iniquity' _ over and over through her silent cackles. "Tradition."

He watched Damian’s little face scrunch up in obvious confusion, and couldn’t help the thread of fondness that wove through his thoughts; the little shit was adorable sometimes, when he wasn’t being a murderous demon baby. 

Which was hardly ever, but hey, who was he to judge?

“What tradition?” Damian’s scowl deepened. “There was nothing mentioned in any of my research about anything involving _ this _ ,” he swung an arm out to encompass the small clearing of people they were able to find, “ _ depravity._”

“Alright Dames, cool your jets,” Steph rolled her eyes. “We’re the lingerie section of a _ Stacy’s _, we’re hardly in a sex shop.”

“It’s indecent!” Damian crossed his arms snugly across his chest, eyes mistrustful. “And I still do not understand why I have to be here.”

And, okay, _ maybe _ Tim could see where Damian was coming from; he was definitely the youngest person in this section of the department store, and surrounded by mannequins flaunting every lacy and sheer little number that the store had to offer, Damian truly was out of his element. He was, however, on a mission and he wouldn’t be deterred, not now, especially not when he could still see Jason’s -annoyingly attractive- knowing smirk seared into the back of his eyelids every time he so much as blinked.

“Like I said,” Tim shrugged, giving Damian the biggest smile he could spare on less than the requisite six morning coffees he needed to function, “Tradition.

“But not the type of tradition that’s listed in the Alfred’s fancy societal records,” he continued before Damian could think interrupt, Steph still smiling beautifically over his head, “This is more, unofficial.”

“Unofficial,” Damian sounded unconvinced, brow quirked in a way that was disturbingly reminiscent of Alfred at his most silently judgey.

“Unofficial,” Steph finally decided to jump in, arm still comfortably slung across Damian’s shoulders, despite the looming cloud of angry pup scent floating around him. “Think more Tumblr, less WikiHow.”

Damian stared blankly back at her. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“She means,” Tim sighed, “That there’s some parts of Presentation Events that are more, underground, meant for the people attending it, not for the people hosting it.” He gestured carelessly with his coffee hand, ice crackling faintly from the bottom of his empty cup. “Bruce definitely has most of this already planned,” his mind flashed back to that thin binder, shielded so carefully from all of them, "no matter how casual he tried to act this morning; I really don’t think I’m going to need to do anything for the main event. But this,” he pointed his straw at the nearest mannequin, modeling a satin nightshirt that _ would _have been modest, if it weren’t missing half the neck to a deep plunge, “This I can do.”

Damian blinked rapidly at him, thoughts visibly racing behind his green eyes. Finally, his gaze settled on the mannequin, disgust now warring with horror on his expression. “You don’t mean for us to _ wear _ these things, do you?”

Steph lost it; she finally let go on Damian only to wrap her arms around her middle, bent over in half, her guffaws directed at her knees. The sales associate who had finally worked up the courage to start approaching their little corner again took one look at her, Damian’s steadily reddening face, and whatever Tim couldn’t hide on his own face, and turned tail and practically sprinted away. 

Tim somehow doubted they would be seeing any more workers for the rest of their time in the store.

“Oh, oh god,” Steph wheezed, wiping at her eyes, face a shade of pink that Tim really wished was more unflattering. “That’s the best laugh I’ve had in like, three weeks. At least since the last time Dick went to pilates with me, and ended up getting offered the job-”

Well, that was a story he would be getting out of her later, Tim decided.

“-But shit, Damian, I didn’t know you had jokes now!” She beamed at the pup, hands on her hips, blatantly overlooking his shaking in barely suppressed rage. “I’m taking credit for your sense of humor, for the record; Dick can bite me.”

“Cease your rambling, Brown!” Damian snapped, teeth audibly grinding together. “How am I supposed to guess at the lunacy running through Drake’s mind? He’s barely lucid when he’s ingested his body weight in coffee, and he’s had but a fourth of that today-”

Okay, rude, but true. 

“-And now he’s dragged me off on this fool’s errand with Father’s misguided blessing, just because he and Todd can’t communicate their mutual lust like the adults they claim to be!”

Tim somehow managed to inhale an ice cube up through his tiny straw, and immediately started choking, only to spit it out when Steph’s unforgiving open palm smack came down on his back with the full weight of judgement day behind it. They all watched the sad little ice sliver disappear underneath a rack of negligees, gone but not forgotten. 

Somewhere, that sales associate was probably crying by now.

“What?” he managed to croak, glaring at Damian through watery eyes. “We _ are not- _”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Drake,” Damian somehow managed to look even more unimpressed than he had earlier that morning, which was a feat in of itself, since there was a rack of rainbow feathered boas right behind him. “Anyone with a functional nose and an open pair of eyes can see that you’re panting for Todd’s knot, for some reason.” Damian scrunched his nose up. “Perpetual bad taste, likely.”

“_ Okay _,” Steph cut him off, pointing a finger straight at Damian, “One, that’s gross; never let Dick catch you saying that, he’ll seriously wash your mouth out with soap, and then cry. But two,” she redirected her finger at Tim, “He’s right, you know. You’re not subtle. At all.” 

“Neither is Todd,” Damian snorted. Steph tilted her head at him in concession, nodding solemnly. 

“This has nothing to do with Jason!” Tim squeaked, only to scramble at the twin incredulous looks he got back. “Okay, this isn’t _ only _ about Jason-”

“-It most definitely is mostly about Todd-”

“-For sure-”

“_ -This _ is about following the age old tradition of the Presentation Event _ carte blanche _, and taking advantage of it to its fullest potential!” He finished loudly, staring right back at the two turncoats standing in front of him, eyes narrowed, daring them to contradict him.

“So,” Damian drawled, “You’re going to make Todd jealous. That’s your grand master plan?” He glanced around with new eyes, obviously cataloguing the items around them with the new information at his disposal. “Are you trying to push him into cardiac arrest? I’d recommend that-” Steph slapped a hand over his mouth, gagging silently.

“Dames, _ never _ give those kinds of suggestions again; I think I’m going to have to get Wally to roundhouse me in the head just to forget that you even _ thought _ that. But no,” Steph narrowed her eyes right back at Tim, smile taking on a wicked edge. “It’s not just about jealousy. It’s about desperation, isn’t it? You’re going to _ thirst _ him to death.”

“I wouldn’t put it _ like that _-” even though that was basically the gist of it, “-I just want to, you know.” he shrugged, cupping his elbow with a palm, casually hooking his collar with a finger, tugging just enough that most of his neck and part of his clavicle were on display for the rest of the store, heads already turning toward them, drawn to the unhindered scent of content omega. “Explore my options.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Steph started slowly after a beat, miming an exaggerated clap, “You are a _ terrifyingly _ efficient mad genius, and I would propose right now if I didn’t know that your heart has long since belonged to another.” She paused, thoughtful look crossing her face. “Although if Jason _ does _ explode during all of this, I call dibs.”

Tim opened his mouth, but was cut off from whatever he might have said by a sudden weight clamping down around his waist. He looked down, only to almost get a mouthful of Damian’s spiky black hair as he whipped his head back and forth, a hissy pup growl rising in volume around them.

“What are you Neanderthals looking at? Keep your boorish eyes to yourselves or I’ll remove them for you!”

“Damian!” Tim yelped, Steph’s _ ‘Oh shit!’ _ barely registering. “Stop that!”

“No!” Damian’s voice was a growl that honestly sounded more cute than threatening to him, but he could admit to himself that they all had seriously skewed concepts of danger, so the sudden spike in _ oh shit-fear _ around them probably had more merit than his own perception. “They were objectifying you, I could smell it!” He whipped his head around at the nearest brave -stupid- man that had been walking toward them, and bared his teeth, smelling faintly satisfied when he stumbled to a stop. “I won’t allow it!”

Okay, Tim could concede that he _ might _ have miscalculated when he mentally recruited Damian for this part of his plan, _ BUT, _ he still had an ace up his sleeve.

Slowly, oh so slowly, Tim wrapped his arms around Damian, tugging his stubborn little head -Jesus, was all the spinach this kid ate going straight to his neck? Who the hell needed neck muscles that strong at eleven?- up and right into the bare patch of skin at the base of his neck, where his collar was still askew. He began to purr, haltingly, and then picking up volume when he felt the pup stop actively fighting against him, slumping against him almost mulishly. 

He continued to purr, letting it vibrate through both of them as he smiled through gritted teeth at the people staring at them, already calculating exactly how much of Bruce’s money he was going to have throw at the work staff to make sure none of their outing made it into the media outlets; he was sure Bruce had a very detailed plan on how to announce Tim’s upcoming Presentation Event, something that didn’t involve two of his sons and their “esteemed family friend” making a scene in the lingerie section of the local risque department store. Maybe he’d just buy the store? Did Wayne Enterprises have its hands in lingerie yet? He’d look into it later.

“Damian,” Tim tried, hand awkwardly petting back the spiky hair at the back of his head. “Remember when you asked me why I asked you to come? And I said it was tradition?” He got a barely discernible huff in response. “It’s tradition for an omega to have an alpha pack member as part of their planning group, and I chose you.”

Suspicious green eyes peeked up at him. “I’m not an alpha. Yet.”

“Yet,” Tim repeated, nodding. “But you might be.”

“I _ will _ be.”

“Right,” Tim nodded again, focusing on keeping his exasperation from bleeding into his scent. The begrudged affection though, that he couldn’t do anything about. “Anyway, it’s going to be your job to make sure everyone who gets invited to this thing is well-behaved, and following the rules leading up to it.” 

“So what you’re saying is that _I_ _can_ separate these uncultured curs from their eyes.”

“No, that is definitely not what I’m saying!” Tim huffed, rolling his eyes. He tilted his head toward the rest of the store, eyebrows raised. “We haven’t started yet, we haven’t even sent out _ invitations _, so you don’t have to worry about any of that yet. I just need you to be prepared going forward, and I wanted you involved in it from the beginning; that’s why I brought you with me today.” He shrugged as best he could with his new human octopus hanging around his midsection. “Just, tradition.”

“Tradition,” Damian echoed, eyebrows furrowing. “Because I’m pack.”

“Right.”

Damian’s eyes were starting to light up in a slightly concerning manic way. “And I’m going to be protecting you from untoward and unworthy advances.”

“Uh-”

“Because I’m your chosen pack alpha guard.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it in _ those _ words, exactly-”

“Um, excuse me, sir?” The sales associate from earlier was standing at least a yard away, visibly pale and looking like she wished she was anywhere but there at that moment. “Um, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you and your pup to leave?” She gestured half-heartedly around them to all the people staunchly _ not _ looking in their direction. “You’re causing a bit of, um, a scene.”

“_ What did you call me?” _

Tim silently groaned and rolled his eyes heavenward, doubling down on his hold around a suddenly unruly Damian as Steph started cackling nearby, face still buried in her phone, obviously having been recording their entire ordeal with no intention of helping him anytime soon.

What did he get himself into?

* * *

“I just don’t get why _ I’m _ being punished too,” Dick whined, legs swinging agitatedly. “ _ You _ I get, but why _ me _ ?” Dick honesty to god _ pouted _ , like a fucking _ child _ , what the fuck. “ _ I _ am great at parties! I planned all the parties while I was with the Titans, I even plan the parties at work now!”

Jason rolled his eyes so hard, he felt something in his neck twinge. “Orgies don’t count as parties, Dick-for-Brains.” He moved his head out of the way of a flying bottle of vanilla extract, sticking a hand out to catch it before it could hit the wall. “That throw was weak as shit; I bet Bruce is weeping somewhere right now.”

Dick gave him a completely unrepentant shameless grin in response. “Maybe I don’t want to disappoint Alfred by causing a mess in his kitchen, you think about that?”

“Should have thought of that before you planted your big ass on his counter then,” Jason shot back, looking pointedly at where the infamous ass was sitting comfortably amidst all his supplies. “If you leave a flour assprint on it, do you think we could get away with slapping a placecard on it and charging an admittance fee?”

Dick actually looked thoughtful for a beat, before physically shaking his head. “Oh no, you’re not distracting me now, Little Wing; we were talking about something serious here.”

“Uh, no, we sure as hell were not,” Jason snorted. “You were whining, and I was pretending to care.”

“I think you mean, that I was rightfully complaining about an injustice on my person, and you were proving that you definitely deserve it.”

“Like hell,” Jason spared a moment away from cleaning to flick him off, “I didn’t deserve to be exiled from this shit any more than you did.” He met Dick’s incredulous expression with his own. “What?”

“Are you serious right now, Jay?” Dick narrowed his eyes. “You literally insulted Tim like, four hours ago.”

“I rag on Tim all the time,” Jason shrugged. “It’s basically how we communicate: I say something rude, he gets sarcastic, and then we move on.”

Now it was Dick’s turn to snort. “I think you mean, both of you do horrible jobs at flirting with each other, the rest of us pretend we’re not drowning in your mutual stink, and then neither of you do anything to put us out of our collective misery.” The shameless bastard immediately took advantage of Jason’s sputtering to snatch the empty batter bowl, dragging his fingers through the remnants with a gleeful chuckle.

“What the fuck are you even talking about,” Jason finally managed to scrape together enough brain cells to respond. “We are not-”

“Jay,” Dick interrupted, expression flat as he peered at him over the rim of the bowl, “You have a batch of coffee brownies in the oven right now. Admit it, Tim has you by the knot.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Even as he said it, Jason knew it was weak, and the amusement curling around Dick like a particularly cloying perfume just confirmed it. “Shut the fuck up.”

“I haven’t said anything~” Dick sing-songed, sticking a doughy finger into his mouth, only to immediately make a face. “Oh god, why is that so bitter, is that normal?”

“That’s what you for sticking your tongue in things you shouldn’t,” Jason grabbed the bowl back, shoving it under the water in the sink. “Shouldn’t you have learned that by now? I think even Damian knows that one, and I’ve caught him eating the cow’s food before.”

“Alfred prepares that food, it’s probably healthier than half the stuff you eat during the week anyway,” Dick commented nonchalantly, finally hopping off the counter. “Hey, do you think we could whip something up to eat while we’re here? I’m starving.”

“Should probably eat something other than cereal in the mornings then, Dickiebird.”

Dick actually gasped. “Take it back!”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait for a short while longer, Master Richard; it appears my kitchen is currently being occupied.”

They both immediately froze, turning as one to smile sheepishly at Alfred, the old beta standing in the doorway with his customary unimpressed eyebrow quirked just so. “Dare I ask what brings the two young masters to the kitchen?”

Dick immediately pointed at Jason. “Jason’s using your oven!”

_ “What the fuck, Dick? _” Jason hissed, shoving at the older man. “See if you get any brownies now, you goddamn traitor.”

“Brownies, you say?” Alfred walked into the kitchen, bending down to briefly look into the viewing window in the oven. “Are these perhaps caffeinated brownies for Master Timothy? What have you done now, Master Jason?”

“Damn Jay,” Dick whistled, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “You’re more predictable than you think.”

Alfred sniffed, his version of an undignified snort. “You all are, Master Richard.”

“Why does everyone assume I did something!” Jason tossed his hands up. “All I did was tease him a little, and he didn’t even smell mad! He’s fine, we’re fine!”

Dick looked unconvinced. “So why are you baking brownies?”

“Maybe I just fucking like baking brownies? Sorry, Alfred,” he added quickly, shoulders hunching instinctively at the muted scent of disapproval that spiked next to him. 

“Hm,” Alfred hummed noncommittally, reaching for the abandoned pair of oven mitts. “You’re going to want to take them out now, Master Jason, so they have enough time to cool sufficiently before hungry hands find their way into them.” He turned to Dick as Jason got to it with the barest grumble, expression and scent the mildest bit curious. “Is it safe to presume that I missed something fairly important while I was out this morning, Master Richard?”

“Oh yeah,” Dick was already nodding, leaning in closer with a big smile. “Get this, Alfie; Bruce wants Tim to have a Presentation Event. A Presentation Event!” He spread his hands out. “This is huge! I never thought I’d see the day when Bruce would suggest an actual, personal, society thing when it isn’t a cover for something else.” He paused, Jason freezing along with him. “Wait, it isn’t a cover for something else, is it?”

“We’re going to have some serious problems if it is,” Jason growled, chest beginning to rumble. “Tim actually wants to go through with this shit.” And he’d be damned if Bruce and his shit boundaries got in the way of that, not on his watch.

“Oh, I can assure you that Master Bruce is quite serious about this,” Alfred’s smooth tenor cut through the tension with an ease that spoke of years of practice. “This is quite an important tradition to him.” A faint smile crossed the old butler’s face, fading just as quickly as he set about making space on the counter for Jason’s newly liberated brownies. “It has always been quite an affair in the Wayne household and pack, another one that Master Bruce has long since worried would die with him.”

Jason could just barely smell the muted unease coming off of Dick, but he sure as hell could see it in the way he shifted his weight around, arms crossing only to be uncrossed a moment later, a mirror to the sour feeling he could feel curdling in his own stomach. 

“Uh, I never knew that about Bruce,” Dick glanced up at him, eyes questioning even as Jason shook his head. “Neither of us did, I guess.” 

And wasn’t that something, Jason thought sourly. If this had been such a big deal to Bruce that even Alfred wasn’t surprised, then shouldn’t they have known too? They were the eldest kids, shouldn’t this have been something that Bruce wanted for them too then-?

“I think, Master Richard, Master Jason,” Alfred interjected, “that you both will find the highest shelf on the rightmost case in the library highly informative, and perhaps, even enlightening.”

“The fuck,” Jason blurted out, barely sparing a wince at the arch look he got in response. “Shit, sorry, but really, that was super cryptic, Alfred, what gives?”

“The lot of you thrive on the cryptic and unknown,” Alfred stepped away from the counter, a tray of sandwiches and a gently steaming teapot lingering in his wake. “A little benign mystery is a nice change from the usual, I believe.” 

“Alfred,” Dick breathed, already moving toward the nearest sandwich, “You are magic, and I love and appreciate you, and I will honor your memory until my dying day.”

“See to it that day is plenty far into the future, Master Richard,” Alfred responded without missing a beat, making his way to the exit. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe Master Timothy and Master Damian are back, and may be in need of assistance.”

Sure enough, barely a full five seconds later and they could hear the front door slamming open, the amount of voices letting them know that it seemed like Tim and Damian had picked up one of the girls on their excursion. 

“You ever think that Alfred might actually be magic or something?” Jason asked casually, leaning back on the counter next to where Dick was putting away sandwiches like a champ. “At least a meta or something like that.”

“Every day of my life.”

“Richard, do I look like I could possibly be Drake’s offspring?” Damian appeared in the doorway like an actual bat out of hell -or the Cave, to be more accurate,- surly preteen expression on full blast. 

Jason and Dick just stared at him, words not fully computing.

“What?” Look, his brain was rebooting from _ that _ mental image, it was the best he could afford, so Damian could take his judgement and shove it up his ass, thank you. 

“Did someone think you were Tim’s son?” Dick looked like he was valiantly fighting down a big cheesy smile, and failing. “That’s kind of cute, Little D.”

“It is no such thing-!”

Tim chose that moment to slip into the kitchen, leaving Dick to try to pacify Damian as he started to really go off. “Hey, guys.”

“Hi Tim!” Dick spared him a smile before turning back to Damian, hands already up, scent smoothing out into something nice and comfortably neutral, hoping to soothe whatever Damian was raging about now.

“Hey, Timmers,” Jason let his own smile curl into something warmer, that something in his chest that he’d always thought of as _ alpha _ rumbling happily as Tim shot him a sly grin of his own up through his bangs, eyes shimmering in obvious delight. 

Damn, but was he a sight, even with the slightly wrinkled shirt and the dark circles under his eyes, remnants of his latest all-nighter. He honestly felt all kinds of stupid for not having realized Tim was an omega before that day, but in his defense, Tim was radiant in his own right, presentation be damned.

Not that he could discount the appeal of his unhindered scent though; the soft, warm tendrils of it both hit him in the face and wrapped almost gently around him at the same time as Tim walked up to him, and it was all Jason could do to avoid just grabbing him and shoving his face into his neck, never to come up for any other subpar air again. 

“Fun day?” he forced himself to croak out, clearing his throat messily as Tim hummed.

“I guess,” he finally shrugged, reaching for one of the abandoned sandwiches. “We got kicked out of one of the stores we needed, but we were able to find what we were looking for at the next one, and only two people thought Damian was my pup at that one.” He paused to take a bite, making a happy noise deep in his throat that made Jason want to roll in it. “Bruce also may or may not own a new store now, still haven’t decided.”

“Long day, then,” Jason amended, reaching back to shove the plate of brownies toward him. “Here; they’re coffee.” He couldn’t help but draw up to his full height when Tim lit up, scent spiking so pleasantly that he actually felt light-headed for a moment. “Hope you like them,” he breathed.

“You made these?” Tim’s look of surprise slowly melted into something softer, lips curling shyly. “Thank you, Jason.”

_ Anything for you, _ Jason managed to swallow down the words before they escaped, offering a choked “Anytime,” instead.

“I’ll be sure to take you up on that,” Tim fucking _ purred_, and yup, Jason’s brain officially short-circuited at that, no cylanders firing, do not past Go, as slim fingers brushed across his chest, Tim disappearing out the door with a murmur about Steph waiting for him, that soft scent following in his wake.

“By. The. Knot.” Dick coughed, loudly, looking away when Jason shot him the nastiest glare in his repertoire. “Just saying.”

“Well make sure to keep your knot in your pants, Todd,” Damian loudly reminded them of his presence, arms crossed, a plastic bag crinkling ominously in the crook of his elbow. “Nothing untoward will be happening on my watch, and I’ll be watching you.” Then the little shit actually pointed at his eyes before flicking his fingers at Jason, disappearing from the doorway before Dick could even finish his gasp of horror. 

Jason on the other hand, was just asking himself one thing, and one thing only:

_ What the fuck just happened? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :{D

**Author's Note:**

> *Finger guns*


End file.
